My Guilty Pleasure
by TheSirenBard
Summary: Jack finds himself once again without his beloved Black Pearl and in his search, has to negotiate with an old childhood acquaintance. But is there more between them than childhood rivalry?
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! (If in fact anyone is reading this... ^___^ ;;) I'm brand new to , so please excuse any awkwardness or general not knowing what the heck I'm doing. I dabble around with this fanfic whenever my novels arent flowing smoothly. Critiques and comments are welcome, just please be cruel and please dont skewer my OC. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!

"Hmmm…" Captain Jack Sparrow rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "No, I really don't think I will." He was standing in the corner of a dimly lit tavern. A place well suited for a meeting, for the general uproar shielded any private conversation from outside ears. Here they were just faces in the rather disheveled and none too savory crowd. Far too many bodies were crowded around the splintering wooden tables and straddling the benches, creating an overpowering and noxious human odor that mingled sourly with the smell of liquor. It was probably due to that same liquor that no one really minded the smell, and it muted the senses enough to further ensure that their conversation would never be successfully repeated. Candles dripped wax in moldy looking puddles and dusty lanterns flickered, adding smoke to the sickening aroma, and there was the subtle awareness that someone in the vicinity had pissed themselves. Not the most pleasant of places, but certainly one that Jack could feel comfortable in. The young woman sitting before him angrily leapt to her feet, but the man on Sparrow's right hurriedly blocked her path.

"Please, Miss. Let me." He flashed her a brief, apologetic smile before whipping around and chasing after Jack, who was already drunkenly flouncing away in the general direction of a cluster of scantily clad barmaids.

"Jack! _Jack!_" He caught his quarry roughly on the shoulder and spun him around. With a furtive glance about the tavern, he pulled his fellow in close. "Jack, I don't know what your relationship is with this girl," He whispered urgently. "But I think you should take her up on her offer."

"Relationship? There is no relationship. She's the niece of a friend's… cousin's… daughter… or something." Jack waved his hand dismissively and began to turn away once more, but the younger man gripped his shoulder firmly. Sparrow glanced down at the hand and after a moment plucked it distastefully from his arm. "Will." He shook his head. "_Will_…when will you learn to _trust_ me? _I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!_" He drew himself up, spreading his arms with a flourish and a rather pretentious air for a moment before deflating slightly. "And I don't need help from some silly little wench knee high to a midget, least of all _that one_." He eyed the young woman angrily over his companion's shoulder, crossing his arms. "I can handle my own bloody affairs, mate."

Will Turner shook his head wearily as his wife Elizabeth drew up beside him, taking his arm and throwing a scathing glance at Sparrow. "Really? And exactly what _affairs_ do you plan on settling in our current state? Or perhaps you hadn't noticed. _We don't have a ship!_"

Jack shrugged. "Details, love." He grinned winningly, a grin which quickly faded in light of the unmoved faces before him. He sighed in disgust. "Oh al-_right!_" He shoved Will aside and gestured languidly at the girl sitting patiently at her table. "Oi. You." Will jabbed him roughly in the ribcage with an elbow. Jack winced. "Beth."

The girl glanced up, arms crossed with a rather dignified look of annoyance. Jack cleared his throat and beckoned reluctantly, calling out over the muffled roar of the tavern and its sinful dealings. "Over here, if you will."

She rose, uncrossing her arms to pick up the skirts of her simple dress and made her way, with some difficulty, through the merry crowd. Standing before him, the top of her blonde head barely drew level with the man's chin. Jack looked down on her, secretly pleased at how tall he appeared in comparison.

She forced a small, compulsory smile, hiding her clenched fists behind her back. "I believe I have been more than reasonable. I have offered you the use of my ship and crew. What better offer could you hope for in your position?"

"Your place as Captain."

Blue eyes widened as Beth stared incredulously up at the man.

"Jack!" Will gaped at him, horrified. Sparrow took a step back, raising his hands in front of him as he began to stave off the verbal attack by his companion. Elizabeth's furious shouting joined the fray a moment later, but to Beth, all of this noise faded seamlessly into the background.

She chewed uneasily on her thumbnail. Give up _La Reigna_ to Jack Sparrow? She shouldn't even be considering it. Yet business hadn't been very good as of late. And with the way things were going… She subconsciously pressed a hand to her throat where the pinprick of a knife was still visible, an ever present warning.

Yes, she needed to leave Port of Spain. With _him_ to deal with… perhaps fading into the unknown would be best under present circumstances.

Beth looked up, vaguely aware of this woman, Elizabeth, screeching something along the lines of 'self centered, egotistical, half-drunk bastard' and studied the pirate before her. Surely Jack would take care of _La Reigna_. Not nearly so well as the _Pearl, _but with his ship out of the picture, he would certainly be more careful. He had always been a resourceful little weasel. Besides, she reasoned, she had always treated her men better than this lout would. She could easily stage a mutiny at a later date and reclaim her title.

Jack was spluttering inanely as Elizabeth rounded on him once more, but they both fell silent at the sound of Beth's soft voice next to them.

"Alright."

Will blinked at her, flabbergasted. "Excuse me?"

Beth bit her lip and dusted off her skirt absently. "I said alright."

Jack straightened up and grinned. "See, lad? A perfectly reasonable request, am I ri-"

"-On one condition."

Jack's face fell slightly and he eyed her with some suspicion. "And what might that be?"

Beth's hands were on her hips now. "That I come with you."

Jack frowned. "You know that it is bad luck to bring a woman aboard-"

"And you know that is as much of a load of poppycock as I do. It _is _my ship after all, and this is far more than an even trade. Now, do we have a deal or not, Mr. Sparrow?" She held out her hand, looking expectantly up at him.

Jack looked at it hesitantly, with a grimace. "Err…" He took her hand, gingerly. "Captain. It's… Captain Sparrow. And, yes… I believe we do."

He shook his hand free of hers and wiped it on his shirt with a very unconvincing smile. He then turned and staggered away, out the door. After exchanging an incredulous glance with her husband, Elizabeth turned sharply on her heel with a groan and stormed after him. Will, in turn, lingered behind. He looked at the small woman before him and smiled uneasily. "Charming, isn't he?"

Beth smirked ironically. "Some people never change."

Will blinked, but as he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off.

"If you will forgive me, Mr. Turner, I have business to attend to. If you would be so kind as to tell Mr. Sparrow that I will meet him at the docks tomorrow morning, then I will take my leave of you." Without waiting for an answer, she abruptly turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Will spluttering in her wake. She waved stiffly over her shoulder, allowing the tavern doors to slam closed behind her without affording him so much as a second glance.


	2. Chapter 2

PEOPLE ARE ACTUALLY READING THESE! So exciting. Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for reading! Chapter 2 is a little on the short side and a little lackluster. But chapter 3 will be a nice chunk of wordage and is far better written, so hang in there and bear with me!

Outside the tavern, Beth let out a shaky breath, all that was left of her barely contained anger. She hid in the shadows and leaned heavily against the wall. Her nerves were shot. She took to shaking as the last bit of feigned confidence leaked out of her, into the wet night air.

Never in a million years had she thought she would turn over her beloved _La Reigna _to another captain, least of all to that slime-bag Sparrow. Seeing him again after all these years still brought that uneasy feeling in her gut.

She had caught sight of him near the bar and had recognized him instantly. Scruffy, unwashed, still wearing that _insufferable _hat… But she couldn't help but think their chance meeting could perhaps have been a stroke of fortune, seeing as what she needed most at that very moment was to get out of town. She bit her lip.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. She gasped as she was turned roughly around. "Time's running short now, missy."

Beth sighed wearily as she recognized the nearly toothless grin. "Robert… I might have known it was you." She didn't need to look down as she felt the cool steel of a knife piercing the fabric of her dress. "I really had hoped we were past all this." She drew herself up to her full height, insignificant compared to the hulking figure towering over her. Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke, but she swallowed hard and tried again. "You know I'm a woman of my word."

He spat, tightening his grip on her shoulder and shaking her slightly. "Don't give me that. You're a pirate, same as me. What's our word good for?"

Beth winced as his fingers dug into her shoulders with unnecessary force. "Well I, for one, _keep_ mine", she rasped, pain fueling her anger. "Besides, I'm not a pirate anymore." Her voice stopped its quavering and she glared up at him, pride momentarily overriding her awareness of the danger she was in. "It just so happens that at this very moment I have given command of my ship to another captain. He will be taking my ship and crew out of Port of Spain tomorrow at dawn, and I myself will be leaving port within the week, as promised. You will never see hide nor hair of me on your precious island again. _Now, will you put that knife away?"_

His look went dark and he struck her hard across the face, sending her sprawling into the street. "You will not take that tone with me, _miss_." He took a menacing step forward. "It looks to me like you still haven't learned your place."

Beth tried in vain to scramble to her feet, and Robert rounded on her at once. "You ought to be thanking me for letting a rat like you scamper away!"

There was a blinding pain as a heavy blow was dealt to her head and her eyes went dark.

When she came to, the streets were empty.

Tired and aching, Beth wandered aimlessly along the docks, reluctant to return to her ship and face the crew with what she had done. She frowned and put a hand to her throbbing head, gingerly fingering the lump. The bleeding had stopped, finally.

It was three weeks ago today that her life came to rest in the hands Black Robert.

The man was a giant; an escaped slave from Barbados, strong as an ox and experienced in the art of violence far beyond the young girl's darkest dreams. And if she had been beaten in an epic battle on the high seas, perhaps it would have been just a little more bearable. But sadly, this was not the case.

No, the young girl had entirely lost her reputation, and nearly lost her life, in a lowly street brawl.

For the life of her she could not remember how the whole thing had started anyway.

Robert was known for his cruelty. But he had spared the girl, an act of mercy she was not willing to question. In return for her life, he had ordered that within a month's time she would renounce any claim to these waters and leave the island. _His_ island. Of course, she had agreed immediately in the interest of saving her own skin. At the time the price hadn't seemed so steep. Upon meeting Jack, she let him bargain with her for the ship. He didn't need know that within a week she would have lost it anyway, along with her life. And with this new arrangement, she could stay on board of her beloved ship among the crew and could leave the island in a hurry.

Still, she hated that man. Sure, Jack would take care of _La Reigna_, if it suited him. And she trusted his methods as a pirate, unorthodox though he was. But her hatred ran a little too deep to be dissuaded by reason. Giving her ship into his grubby hands was beginning to seem like a loathsome idea. And now she couldn't back down.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack's mood was particularly foul the following morning. He barely spoke, making only small monosyllabic grunts instead of his usual salty wit. But as the small company drew near to the docks, he became increasingly agitated and vocal in his frustration. His temper was so terrible that he sent a small boy running in tears to his sweet looking, plump mother who swore, red faced, like a sailor at their retreating heels.

Trouble was, Sparrow had never particularly liked partnerships. He was used to working alone, relying only on his cleverness and smooth tongue to get by. But now he was in a situation where cooperation was his only escape and he didn't like it one bit.

He had come off somewhat worse for wear from a "small tiff" with a government schooner. Actually, worse for wear was a bit of an understatement. He was ashamed to admit that his ship, along with the better part of his crew, had gone down in a rather glorious blaze. He had managed to escape, barely, along with Turner and his respective Mrs. He was now shipless and virtually crewless; and on top of it all, to worm his way out he'd needed to negotiate with this _Beth_. He was loath to do so.

He and Beth had quite the history, and not in a good way. His and Beth's mothers had been very close. The two women had often attempted to put their children in each other's company, convinced they were the best of playmates. They couldn't have been more wrong. Jack would subject the girl to all sorts of cruel jokes and teasing, though he maintained that it was nothing more than "good natured joshing". The girl would in turn run home to her mother, and Jack suspected this was the source of many of the unexplained beatings he received by way of his father's belt strap.

And yet as she got older, something changed. And in Jack's opinion, it changed for the worse. Whereas before he could send her home, sobbing, she now took to sticking to him like glue. She would clamber over fences and across rooftops as Jack tried desperately to leave her behind. At the end of the day, her mother would tear her away from his side, dress torn, knobby knees scabbed and stained with grass. It became impossible for Jack to get away from her. He _never_ could get away from her. Even when her parents shipped her off to boarding school in an attempt to break her of her "vile, unruly behavior", she ran away to become a maid at the inn above his favorite pub. It was like she had become his own personal shadow. He thought he had left her behind when he stowed away on a merchant vessel, and became even more sure when he found himself caught up in a mutiny against the captain. But after a few years of blissful, self indulgent freedom, rumors began to spread of a "Lady Pirate" with golden hair. He disregarded them, thinking surely there must be other rebellious young women in the immediate area, and continued to swindle, cheat, and murder his way into becoming captain of the legendary _Black_ _Pearl._ Until the day he saw her, aimlessly walking the streets in Tortuga. She had certainly grown, and there was a woman's sway to her step, accentuated by the clanking of her sword on its belt. But there was no mistaking those wide, innocent blue eyes. Eyes that should never belong to a pirate. Seething and sick to his stomach, he left port still the rumors grew. Of how this woman had become first mate of a Captain Edwards. And later, of how Edwards had been found dead in his quarters, leaving her as captain of his clipper ship, _La Reigna._ And it was only six months later that Jack had spotted her flag flying through his glass on the open ocean. The circumstances were right, _La Reigna_ heavy with plunder from a nearby port, his crew restless from a long, quiet couple of weeks at sea, their pockets empty.

His intention had been to blast the living hell out of her ship. The reverse occurred, ending with a sinking of his beloved _Black Pearl_ and a shipless captain Jack, which now that he thought on it, was ironic. Nevertheless, it made his blood boil. The _Pearl_. This whiny brat had sunk his beloved _Pearl_! In his desperation, Jack turned to Davy Jones to raise her from her watery grave. Everything that followed; his debt, the Locker... Every misfortune that had come his way since birth, even his own father's belt leather, could be traced back to that angelic face, those wide, innocent blue eyes... The sound of his teeth grinding was enough to give him a headache.

They had not crossed paths since, which suited him fine. Needless to say he was not fond of the girl. And now he found himself at her mercy. Yet there she was, offering to lend him her own ship in his time of need. He didn't buy it for one moment.

True enough, she had let him remain the infamous _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, and had offered to serve under him as a part of the crew. But that alone was suspicious. She had let him keep the Turner boy as his first mate as well. Jack sighed. He would just have to ride it out. And when the time came, he would flee. Find a new crew, a new ship, and remain the ever-elusive Captain Jack Sparrow. He was fond of Turner, insofar as he found the boy amusing and posed little real threat. And any crew was… useful. But not worth enough to incur any real emotion or guilt at the though of leaving them behind. His skin was worth theirs ten times over-

"Jack?"

"Mmm?" He looked up. The other two had come to a halt, staring at him. "What?"

"You were muttering under your breath." Will eyed him with concern.

"And _fascinating_ as it must be, get on with it. We've not got all day."

Will slowed his pace and fell into step with the darkly glowering captain. "Jack? Are you alright?"

Jack grunted and crossed his arms.

"Is it the girl? Beth?"

There was no reply.

"I see." Will raised his eyebrows slightly.

Jack turned on him sharply. "Not like that, lad, not at all. It's all far more unpleasant than that. Lets just say she and I are old childhood… friends." His eyes narrowed, frown deepening to a scowl. "Now, there'll be no more talk of this _Beth_ so I suggest you bloody let it alone!"

Jack stormed past, shouldering the boy roughly aside, but Will stayed where he was, taken aback by Sparrow's dark tone.

Elizabeth took his hand and pressed close as she walked, staring after the ill-tempered Captain. "I've never seen him like this. Its like being around a completely different person…" She looked up at him imploringly. "Will?" He shook his head and kissed her distractedly, bending to her ear. "Later." He whispered. "When we're alone and out of the earshot of old Jack."


	4. Chapter 4

The ship was magnificent. It was enormous and crewed by the most able bodied men Will had ever seen. He glanced over at Sparrow. By the murderous look in his eye, the Captain was impressed. Will smirked quietly to himself.

The doors to the captain's quarters were flung open with an audible bang. Out stormed Beth, lugging a heavy trunk behind her. Her clothes showed no resemblance to the night before. Her faded trousers were ripped and worn from years of hard labor in the sun, and her plain vest was cinched tightly with an even plainer belt. She dropped the trunk with a heavy thud, careful to avoid her bare feet, and bared her teeth at Sparrow in what Will supposed was meant to be a smile. Jack studied her neatly tied back hair with a mild look of disgust.

"Well don't you look… clean." He looked her over once again. She struggled to keep the grimace of a smile in place. "Just removing the last of my belongings from my…" She hesitated. "_your_ quarters…" She crossed her arms and looked away, neatly disguising her scowl. " ... Captain."

Jack blinked, and for the first time allowed the girl to see one of his, in his own opinion, devilishly handsome smiles. _Captain_, he thought. He liked the sound of that. Especially from her stubborn little mouth. "Yes, well thank you very much, Miss Beth." He patted her patronizingly on the head and she stiffened, looking as though she wanted nothing better than to bite that hand as he turned to address the gathering crowd, who dropped their tasks and eyed him curiously while he explained the recent changes on board. Beth averted her gaze, having been too apprehensive to do it the night before. She had worked long and hard to gain their confidence as such a young captain and especially as a woman. And now she was betraying that trust, handing them over to another captain so willingly…

Will surveyed the crew as Jack rambled on. Elizabeth, however, found herself at the former captain's side.

"It was really quite generous of you to do this."

Beth blinked and turned to meet the older woman's gaze. Elizabeth was shocked at the vastness of the sorrow in the young girl's wide blue eyes, not only at the loss of her ship and the faith of her crew, but something else as well. Yet Beth only smiled kindly. "Jack and I go way back. I figure I owe him one." Elizabeth scoffed. "Jack's debts run deeper than any you could owe him."

Beth looked over wistfully as the man who had plagued her since her childhood took the helm. "Captain Jack Sparrow owes nothing to any man, I'm afraid."


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner that night was more of a feast than anything else. At least, it was for the captain, his first mate, and the first mate's wife. Moonlight shone in through the window, mingling with the glow of the candles that stood proudly at either end of the table. A white tablecloth was spread, displaying virtually no stains, a state in which Elizabeth was certain it wouldn't remain for long. They sat on plush chairs, high backed and cushioned with red velvet. The plates were simple, but elegant and the ship was well supplied with a good stock of rum, which Jack had seen to personally. And to add to the Captain's deepening sense of pleasure; he had specifically ordered dinner to be served by none other than the newest crewman.

Elizabeth's jaw dropped and she stared at the young woman in stunned silence, paying no mind to the delicacies upon the heavily laden platters she bore. Jack clapped his hands together gleefully and began to enthusiastically shovel food onto his plate, sleeves dragging through all manner of sauce. But Beth merely lowered her head in a forced bow, hiding her snarl of fury as she turned to leave. Will gripped the captain's arm with a reproachful look. "Jack."

"What?" He looked innocently at Will over his mug of rum, who shook his head disapprovingly and leaned closer. "Can you not treat the girl a bit more hospitably? She's saved your life and ours with her generosity."

Jack looked uncomfortable for a moment, scowling as he thought it over, then grunted in reluctant agreement. "Oi. You. Go and…" He gestured uselessly, flapping his hands at her. "Put something more respectable on. And don't expect for us to wait for you either."

The girl looked up. She knew Will meant well, but spending the evening with Jack was worse torture than she had meant to bear.


	6. Chapter 6

Beth returned, wearing a simple dress. She sat quickly, folding her hands in her lap and looking anywhere but at Jack, who greeted her with a reluctant smile. "Well then," He slurred through a bite of meat. "Go on and eat." Beth didn't respond, head bowed. Without looking up, she served herself off of the plate nearest to her and began eating. Mashed potatoes, she realized, but was reluctant to take anything else for fear of drawing attention to herself. She just wanted to eat and be done with it. Being in the same room with Jack Sparrow, especially such an intimate setting, was grating heavily on her nerves. The nonchalant way he sat in _her _chair, the way he spilled his food onto _her _table. Memories came flooding back, and her stomach turned. Even her meager helping of potatoes was beginning to look like it would take the better part of a century to finish. She cast a wistful glance at the door.

The room was thick with tension. Beth and Jack avoided each other's gaze religiously, leaving their companions in an awkward silence. Will shifted uneasily in his chair, feeling as though the sound of his fork on the china was far too loud.

Jack on the other hand, was getting a strange feeling in his chest. It was a familiar feeling, something like coming home. Smugness was beginning to grow in his expression, and he realized that things had finally returned to the way they used to be. The way the should be. Seeing Beth across the table, head bowed and dressed in a simple frock, was a relief to him. She was once again subordinate, a pawn to his will. A sick sort of nostalgia washed over him, and he felt much as he had in the days where he had hidden her favorite doll up a tree or had tripped her in the street, making her skin her knees on the cobblestones and cry. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking immensely pleased.

"What are you smirking at?"

Jack turned to face Elizabeth in surprise, who was looking at him with some annoyance. He grinned, apparently impervious to the weight of the silence. He lifted his glass, taking a drink and pausing lengthily before he spoke. He caught the reflexive tightening in Beth's jaw.

Straightening up, he reached for the platter of ham, glancing at Beth as he served himself. "I doubt the woman will let me alone if I don't allow you to eat with us from now on… But don't think anything of it. It was the boy's idea, not mine. Nothing has changed between us. To me you are still the same insufferable brat you always were."

There had been a strange expression on the Captain's face all day. Whenever he had to speak to the girl, he hadn't quite managed to focus on her. His gaze would shift slightly to a blank spot above her head, or somewhere to the right of her cheek, or it would even appear that his attention was on the air directly in front of her face. His look had remained guarded and non attentive.

But he looked at her then. His gaze was cold and hateful. For once in his life, Jack Sparrow looked sober and completely serious. The couple seated next to him saw something in the young girl snap with those words. Hurt blue eyes stared across the table at the Captain. For a moment, she looked unfathomably sad. Her whole body sank into the cushions of the chair and her head fell. Elizabeth leaned forward, shooting a reproachful look at Sparrow as she reached for the girl, but her comforting hands fell short as Beth began to speak. "No." Her voice trembled with anger and her fists clenched, white knuckled and shaking. "No, I suppose it hasn't. It's not like you at all to forgive, is it Jack? Even after all the mistakes you've made for yourself…" She cocked her head, eyes narrowed. " Even after all these years, you still haven't grown up."

Jack leapt to his feet, shaking with fury. "Not another word! I am your captain, and _you will hold your tongue!_"

On her feet as well, the girl slammed her deceptively delicate looking fist onto the table. "Here I stand, giving up my way of life to do you a favor, and still you see only the past! You're only captain by my doing, Jack! I can remove your sorry self from this ship anytime I like!" She sneered maliciously. "Its no wonder you can never manage to stay Captain of a ship for long, you're nothing but a self-centered child!"

Sparrow looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then he took a small whistle from his pocket and blew. Immediately, a huge man burst through the door and gave him a curt nod. Beth recognized him as Peter Whitley, the quartermaster. Jack's words were soft as he fingered the whistle contemplatively. "Those are mutinous words." He glanced up at the man standing attention by the door.

"Take her to the brig."

His voice was deep and cold. It had a finality to it that made it hard to believe that it belonged to the same eccentric, half-drunk pirate Will had come to know so well. Or so he had thought. Something in his smile had changed. It was an expression of sadistic pleasure that made Elizabeth's skin crawl and Will's hand stray to his cutlass. There was a black look in Jack's eye as he watched the crewman grab his former captain by the collar and ruthlessly drag her, with no resistance, out of the room, letting the heavy double doors hit her on the way out.

Sparrow threw down his napkin. He turned, smirking to himself and sauntered away, leaving the still seated couple staring after him in shock. He let the door to his bedchamber slam behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone! I'm being a good girl and updating! Um... I hate to ask but... I really really love feedback. So... if you all could find it in your hearts to comment/critique once in a while, it would be totally awesome. Also I should warn that within the next few chapters there _will_ be a little smut... or a lot of smut. I havent gotten there yet. But anyway! Be forewarned. Or excited. Whichever...

I LOVE YOU GUYS! Thanks a million for reading.

* * *

The next morning, Jack didn't even bother to emerge from his quarters, leaving Will the full responsibility of keeping the new crew in line as they sailed, predictably, for Tortuga. Despite a valiant effort on Will's behalf, the men were having difficulty adjusting. Many were resentful of the change in authority, preferring the hand of their previous captain. And not without reason, he thought. Jack couldn't even be bothered to show his face. And in the absence of their Captain, the first mate was getting the brunt of their anger. More than once he found himself in need of help from the fiercely hardworking Beth.

The men had, for the most part, stopped listening to her as well. They seemed to have grown to mistrust her practically overnight. Will supposed they must have felt the way any crew of Jack's had felt. The way he had felt on more than one occasion. Like a thing, a pawn. A possession of little or no value that could be traded at whim. The other crewmen avoided her, frequently shirking work at her expense and forcing her to pick up the slack. She was pulling a load equal to any of the other men, working diligently under a sweltering noonday sun. Her muscles strained, and sweat poured down her flushed face. Will found her fascinating to watch. Her perseverance was astonishing to him, for her strength was nowhere near that of the men. His own wife was no house pet, but surely she would have buckled under Beth's workload by now. He would have thought that several years as Captain would have softened her up, but she looked at home on the deck, despite the disapproving looks from her crew. With a grimace and a stab of guilt, he noticed the bruises on her cheek and shoulders the heavy doors had given her the night before. Several times he saw her hesitate, wincing and favoring patches of mottled blue.

She only rested once. As she was sitting atop a crate in the brief shade of a passing cloud, Will took his chance and sat down beside her. She turned to face him, and for the first time, he saw a true smile light up her face. He found it was contagious, unwittingly grinning back at her. The hard work had lightened her disposition and added a healthy amount of color to her cheeks. She looked surprisingly young, sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the deck.

"I had been hoping to manage a word with you." She looked away again, squinting as the sun returned from behind the cloud. Will winced as he saw the bruise on her cheek in a new light.

"You're doing a fine job, you know. Of handling the men, I mean. I would have expected my crew to give you much more trouble than this. It took them the better part of two years to get used to me."

As much as he found his eyes fixed on the bruises from last night's outburst, she seemed oblivious to them, head proudly held high as she looked up at the sky. He stared at her, unsure what to think of the little woman beside him. She felt his eyes on her and laughed, turning to see his confusion. "Its nothing to worry about. Jack and I have always been like this. We've known each other nearly since we were born."

The laughter didn't reach her sad blue eyes. Will glanced around hurriedly, searching the deck for any sign of Jack. Thankfully, the man was nowhere in sight. He cleared his throat nervously. "Miss Beth, I wonder if perhaps you could explain his… behavior. I've never seen him this way." Beth smiled. "I wondered when you would ask..." She bit her lip. "It's really quite simple. He was, in a way, my childhood bully." Will blinked at the simplicity of it. She laughed grimly. "Oh how he used to torment me. He would steal my most dear possessions, turn any friends I had against me, hurt me in any way he could… there wasn't a single day I came home without a new bruise or scrape… but my parents never noticed. My mother was very close to Jack's you see, so while the two of them would visit, they would send Jack and I out to play. I presume they thought we would make a clever match as we got older." Beth shrugged. "All I know is that he hated me. And grew to hate me more as time passed."

"I grew up." She explained. "I started figuring his tricks out for myself. And making tricks of my own. Started having… thoughts of my own…" She bit her lip and fell silent, eyes growing distant. Will cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow. Beth looked up with a guarded laugh, and speaking quickly. "I beat him in a game of dice once. I cheated, I'll admit it. But boy, when he found out." She whistled and grinned. "He got so angry he tried to kill me. But he was so drunk he could barely stand." She blinked. "Oh, and there _was_ that time when I…" She hesitated. "The time I commandeered his boat out of Tortuga." She shook her head, smile fading slightly.

"And there were other… incidents." Beth averted her gaze and cleared her throat, squinting up at the sky. "But we lost track of each other for years. Nothing but rumors and hearsay. And yet, here we are."

Will raised an eyebrow. "If you already knew Jack wasn't fond of you, why would you make him such a generous offer?"

Beth had picked herself up and was back on her feet, looking uneasy. "That must be a question for another time. I'd best get back to work." She glanced around at the men, worrying her lip. "Don't need to be labeled as lazy on my first day. Give my regards to Elizabeth, would you? She looked lovely at dinner last night."

Then she was gone, hidden by the massive bodies running to and fro across the deck.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm terrible at this game! I just cant hold out on you guys once I have this stuff written. Aww, maaaaaan...

* * *

At late afternoon, the Captain finally saw fit to leave his quarters. The short excursion gave him enough time to bark a few orders, chastise a few sailors, and most importantly, finish off what was left of a barrel of rum.

Will watched him with some concern. He was uncharacteristically quiet. Jack avoided looking out over the deck, completely ignoring his crew and focusing his attention instead on the drinking of rum. His look could only be described as brooding, and his steps were slow as he walked the deck, his usual unsteady swagger becoming little more than a limp.

He gave a start as Will came up beside him and cleared his throat. His gaze focused on his companion for a brief moment, before resettling on his bottle with a low grunt of annoyance.

"Jack, are you alright?"

The older man's face hardened, eyes narrowing as he stared, unseeing, into the amber liquid sloshing in his hand. " 'Course I'm 'lright. Neverbetter."

Will blinked; his words were slurred worse than usual.

"Jack, have you-"

"I didn' sleep, 'lright?" The Captain snapped angrily, glaring at the bottle now.

Will's brows furrowed with some concern for the man he had misguidedly come to call a friend. "The Kraken again?"

Jack sniffed absently and nodded as he lifted the bottle to his lips. He grimaced as he swallowed, clearing his throat and squinting up at the sky. He shuddered.

Will could hardly blame him. For months after Jack had been pulled out of the Locker, the Captain barely slept. On occasion, Will would find him passed out against a canon or a crate of miscellaneous goods. The man would jerk violently in his sleep till he woke with a cry of fear. His eyes were always wide and unseeing, hands raised as if to fend off some invisible assailant.

It had taken the better part of a year before Jack was comfortable going to sleep. The ship's stock of rum began to last longer then as well, Will noted with a sideways glance at the bottle in the Captain's hand.

From across the deck, sunlight glinted off Beth's golden hair. Will turned, regarding her flushed face with a smile. She looked so young and strong. So at home on the pitching deck, her bare feet solidly on the planks. "You know-"

Will stopped short as Jack turned sharply away. He leaned heavily on the railing, speaking in a gruff voice. "Make sure that girl knows to behave properly when serves me my supper. I wont have any more of this mulish insubordination."

Will stared after the him as he staggered across the deck, barely managing not to spill the rum left in his bottle with his uneven steps. As the men eyed their new Captain with scorn and general distaste, Will's own eyes were fastened on the sun as it dipped towards the horizon. Nowhere near fast enough.


	9. Chapter 9

See, what did I tell you? I just cant withhold this stuff...

* * *

But when the sun finally set, it was not Beth that served the Captain his meal. Will surveyed her replacement, a small, bald headed man, with little surprise. When he had passed the order along to Beth, the dim light of the setting sun couldn't mask the flush in her cheeks or the spark of defiance in her eyes, even as she nodded obediently.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jack was on his feet, eyes alight, nostrils flaring angrily. The bald man flinched, looking up at the Captain with some confusion. "The Capt… Beth. Beth said that you… I… was ordered to…"

"I most certainly did _not_ order you! I ordered _her!_" Jack snarled, advancing on the man and in one swift motion knocking the tray from his hands and hurling it towards the wall. The man shrank as Jack's eyes bored into him. "You clean this up, savvy? _All _of it. I don't want to see it. This meal is an outrage."

He stormed towards the door and threw it open. His voice dropped menacingly low as he turned to look over his shoulder. "You still think she is your Captain? You're wrong, son. I am Captain on this ship, you hear me? _Captain. Jack. Sparrow!_" He stepped onto the deck, wheeling about as he searched the scattering of startled faces. "_Where is she?_"

Will gripped the older man roughly by the shoulder. "Jack, that's enough!"

The Captain seized Will's hand and ripped it off of his shirt. "This doesn't concern you, boy!" Jack shoved him aside and elbowed his way through the gathering crowd. "Where is she?" Movement caught his eye somewhere astern. His gaze fastened on her as she looked up from calmly mopping the deck.

Jack looked to the quartermaster, pointing at the surprised young woman as he spoke, hand surprisingly steady despite the drink. "Hold her."

The mop was ripped from her hands, which were then held fast behind her back. Her blue eyes were wide with shock as Jack stalked solemnly toward her. As she opened her mouth to speak, he raised his hand and struck her a sound blow across the face. He glared down at her, his stony face unmoved by her soft cry of pain. "I gave you an order. Not baldy over there, _you._" His glowering was turned upon the small man that was still shakily cleaning the debris from a moment ago, who dropped the tray again in panic.

"_PICK IT UP!"_ Spittle flew as Jack bellowed at the man, who scrambled to his knees to clear the wreckage.

Jack sucked in a slow breath, drawing himself up and looking around at the crew. "You think this woman is your Captain? You're wrong. Why should you have any loyalty to her? She traded you like a basket of eggs. And what did she ask for in return? Nothing! You are _worthless _to her!"

Beth struggled against the quartermaster's grip. "That's not-"

Jack turned a black look on her, voice frighteningly soft. "_You will be silent!_" He glared about at the crew. "Anyone showing loyalty to this woman from this moment forward will be flogged forthwith. I will not have mutineers on my ship. I am your Captain now. Accept it, or face the consequences."

He gave a calm look to the quartermaster, glancing scornfully down at the little woman in his arms that was glaring daggers up at him. "Take her to the brig. Make sure she has no food or water." He reached down to cup her face. "Every time you disobey one of my orders, I shall have you locked in the brig. I am _your_ Captain as well…" He smirked. "…_Captain._"


	10. Chapter 10

The heat was unbearable. Sweat rolled down the Captain's tanned, muscular back, running in rivulets between his shoulderblades as his body rocked in a steady, telltale rhythm. The wet, sultry sounds of flesh on flesh, of his throbbing shaft delving into that sticky, tight heat reached his ears, slowly driving him mad. And yet neither this, nor the creaking and groaning of the bedboards could drown out the sensuous sounds tumbling from Beth's parted lips.

Her golden hair was strewn across his pillow, eyes closed, lashes dark against her flushed cheeks. She moaned again, and Jack squeezed his eyes shut, immediately becoming aware of the growing tightness surrounding his throbbing flesh. He gritted his teeth, stifling a groan. The Captain dug his fingers into the pillow on either side of Beth's head, fighting to remain in control of himself when her legs slowly wrapped themselves around his hips. Jack cried out, eyes snapping open in surprise, and he found himself looking into those wide, innocent blue-

Jack jerked awake with a strangled cry, sitting bolt upright in the bed. He gasped for breath, staring wide eyed about his cabin. Unlit candles dripped old wax into a sea of crumpled, stained charts strewn across his small desk. Empty rum bottles littered the desk and floor, rolling and clanking together with the rocking motion of the ship, impeded here and there by evil-smelling lumps of discarded clothing.

Only somewhat reassured to find himself alone, Jack glanced warily down at a suspicious lump in the blankets, aware of an all too familiar pulsing…

The Captain fell back against the mattress with a sigh of disgust. He gazed up at the ceiling, mind still muddy with sleep. He squinted up into the darkness, trying to make out the dark wooden planks overhead, without really seeing them at all. All he saw were those innocent, blue eyes. He rolled out of the bed, still wearing his trousers from the day before, and stumbled to the desk. Jack looked over the charts briefly, then fumbled through the cluster of bottles, finding them to be empty as well. With a displeased grunt, he turned, leaning heavily against the wall, and limped to the door. As he reached for the knob, he stopped and glanced surreptitiously at the crotch of his pants, before opening the door and walking unsteadily out onto the deck.

No one on the night crew so much as looked up, though a few bowed their heads together, noses wrinkling in disgust as they spoke in hushed whispers. Jack pointedly ignored them. There had been much whispering since the ship changed hands. The Captain slipped on a freshly swabbed patch of deck, barely catching himself on the railing as he made his way to the large hatch middeck. He teetered precariously as he crouched to open it, descending slowly into the hold.

Below, Jack breathed a sigh of relief with cool glass in his hand. The bottle rang low as he uncorked it, then brought it to his lips. The dark liquor barely burned as he drank. He'd practically lost the ability to even taste the rum the moment he'd stepped on this infernal boat. All that remained was the numbness, the forgetfulness. Now, he drank solely to forget those blue eyes.

He turned, bottle sloshing in his hand, to survey the iron bars of the brig. For a brief moment, his eyes fell on the huddled form sleeping in the corner before he tore himself away and stomped decidedly up the steps.

The dreams had started in the Locker. First came nightmares. The Kraken would come for him, night after night as he slept, reliving his own slow suffocation, drowning in the digestive fluids within the creature's foul gut. Then came dreams of Elizabeth Swann. Then dreams of pirates who became walking corpses in the moonlight. It was a month- a year? Jack was never sure. Time passed strangely in the Locker, or perhaps time didn't pass at all- before he realized he was dreaming his life backwards.

But all of that stopped the night Jack dreamt of that blue eyed wretch, sinking his beloved Pearl. From that moment on till his not-so-glorious rescue, he dreamt of nothing but her. Beth sprawled out across his bed, Beth bloodied and grim faced in battle, Beth with the knobby knees of her youth, scrambling across the rooftop after him, Beth undressing slowly in her bedroom, unawares, Beth screaming the order to sink his beautiful ship, Beth crawling seductively on top of him… He glared down at the half drunk bottle.

It was enough to drive a man mad, if Jack weren't already mad enough from the start.


	11. Chapter 11

Hello, everyone! I know this is short. Its not laziness, its intentional. But not to worry, chapter 12 will be up as soon as possible. Thanks so much to everyone who has added me to their story alerts and favorite lists! Please remember, I live on comments and reviews. But more than that, thank you for reading!

"_I am _your_ captain as well…Captain."_

Beth stared up into the darkness, hot tears stinging her eyes. Her heartbeat drummed angrily in her ears and her jaw clenched.

They were all lies. Vicious Lies. The tears spilled, dampening her salt-crusted hair. Not that she suspected he knew any different. How could he know anything about it? About her? Her heart pinched, cutting through the anger, the niggling voice of her mild mannered conscience reminding her that betrayal was all he had ever known.

She blinked up at the blackness above her and tried to remember the Jack she used to know. Long before he was Captain Jack Sparrow. Back when her knees were knobby and covered in scrapes, when her dresses were stained with grass. But the look of contempt in his dark eyes, the sneer on his rum-chapped lips when he called her "Captain" came in its place, unbidden. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out. More tears spilled down her cheeks, the memory of the savage black look he gave her making her shiver.

The hatch creaked open suddenly and Beth gave a start, scrambling for the darkest corner of her cell. She hid her tearstained face in her arms and huddled in her best mimicry of sleep. The uneven, staggering footfalls were unmistakable. As Jack descended into the hold, she found it harder and harder to breathe. She was glad to have stopped crying. His face was in shadow, the moonlight from the hatch illuminating his figure for a brief moment before he was swallowed up by the same darkness that hid her so well. She held herself perfectly still, waiting for him to come and spit upon her, rattle the iron bars of her cell, to kick dirt in her face as he one did. She would have felt his dark eyes on her, even in this blackness. But he didn't so much as glance her way.

After a tense moment, she peered out between her arms, squinting into the dark. She could no longer see him, but she felt Jack's presence like a hot, heavy hand on her shoulder. Breathing slowly, deliberately, she tried to calm the beating of her heart, already much too loud in her ears. She heard him stumble, the thud of heavy boot leather on something wooden, bottles clanking and rattling. He groaned with pain, deep voice terribly slurred. She cringed at that. Then strained her eyes as he came into the dim moonlight once more. He looked tired, already dark circles under his eyes exaggerated in the night. There was a stoop to his shoulders Beth had never seen before. He looked nothing like the blackhearted villain he'd been since he took command of the ship. He looked…

His blank eyes suddenly focused, and Beth held her breath. Dark eyes flickered once toward her, then stopped. His gaze faltered, and he stood motionless, scowling into the blackness. Then he turned on his heel and stomped up the steps, boots disappearing overhead. As the hatch slammed closed, Beth collapsed in on herself with a shuddering sob.


	12. Chapter 12

*HELLO! Another short one. The next will not be, so keep your knickers on. But I have a question for my darling dearling readers: What do you think of this character? Reactions, please! I love you all. Thank you for reading. *

It was young Jimmy Christianson that woke Beth in the morning. His sun freckled face was etched with gentle concern. With worry in his brown eyes he turned the key to her cell door and spoke in a quiet voice.

"Captain?"

Beth opened her eyes, red and swollen from crying and slowly turned. She smiled softly at him and slowly rose to her feet. "You shouldn't call me that, you know."

He ducked his head, nodding slowly. Beth's brow furrowed and she stood up a little straighter, dusting off her trousers. Her voice was stern. "Don't you pity me, Christian. You know full well I can handle myself."

He took a step forward, reaching for her. "Then why _don't_ you? The men all wait on your word, why will you not give it?" He ducked his head again, belatedly with an apologetic look. There was a subtle defiance in his voice, however, as he added "Captain."

"The word will never come. I am not the mutinous sort, Christain." Her look softened and she took his face in her hands, lifting his gaze to her own. "Have I ever led you astray? Any of you?" Jimmy eyes faltered guiltily at that, but before he could speak, she smiled and continued. "I have my reasons for surrendering the ship. You'll just have to trust me. All of you will have to trust me. Like you once did."

At that, Jimmy smiled. It was contagious. He and Beth stood there, grinning at one another as the sunlight streamed through the hatch above and shone off their equally golden hair. When the moment stretched a little too long, there was a loud wooden _thud_ from somewhere overhead and Beth looked up.

"It looks like a beautiful day, Christian. Would you care to take me to it?"

He smiled and took her arm, leading her gently past the iron bars, up the steps, and into the blinding sunlight. Her grin widened as the smell of fresh salt and the raucous crash of the waves on the prow nearly drowned out the hearty voices of her men as they hollered at each other from across the deck. For they were her men. She could see that now, in each pair of worried eyes as they met hers as she took a step out onto the deck. Her heart, which had seemed to be missing since she first opened her eyes this morning, warmed a little at the way they surreptitiously glanced at one another, careful not to look too sentimental.

The Quartermaster, Peter Whitley, caught her shoulder, an apology in his eyes, and she smiled at him. The big man smiled sheepishly back and mumbled a quiet "Good morning". She cut him off with a tilt of the head before he could call her "Captain". "Remember what Jack said. You must call me Beth now." The men closest to her scowled, and she gave them all a stern look. A few looked away.

Her stomach growled and she looked down at it in surprise. The dull ache in her chest had for the most numbed the hunger clawing at her belly. Now she folded her arms across the offending organ and blushed, authority undermined by her own willful anatomy. Jimmy's voice was soft at her back.

"Captain's ordered a hold on your rations."

An ice cold fist wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed. Beth shrank visibly, shoulders slumping in a sad mimicry of the stooped figure of the night before. Her eyes flickered about the deck, finding no trace of the Captain. Her gaze drifted aftward, towards his cabin. There her eyes lingered, as she found herself wondering if he slept. Likely passed out in a drunken stupor.

Her eyes prickled with tears she told herself weren't there. Jimmy's hand fell gently on her shoulder, turning her away. There was concern in his warm brown eyes. And confusion. She drew herself up, smiled comfortingly at him, then grinned at her crew.

"Nevermind if he holds my rations for a month! I'll wager I can haul more line than any of you lot, even with an empty belly."


	13. Chapter 13

***Hi all! That took too long. But look! A LONG(ish) chapter! I love you all! READ ON!***

*haha, I'm an editing moron. I am SO sorry for missing all those awful wording problems. Thank God my room mate caught them. I JUST WANTED THIS POSTED!*

Jimmy Christianson looked on, helpless, as Beth was escorted to the brig once more. Not seized. Certainly not dragged. His Captain held her head up high in wordless defiance. Heavyset sailors flanked her on either side, men whose silent scowls spoke of displeasure at their orders- Beth looked dignified. With the glow of the setting sun illuminating her golden hair, she might have looked regal, but for the sweat staining the back of her fraying shirt.

Jimmy hadn't even heard the order given. He had been up in the rigging securing a sail when Sparrow's wild, wide-armed gesticulating caught his eye. There was no telling if the redness in the man's face was from anger or the rum. He appeared to be shouting. Beth certainly was. The young woman was flushed all the way down to her shoulders with fury.

Jack gestured for the men either side of her to seize the little woman before him. She in turn drew herself up proudly and turned on her heel, loyal men falling reluctantly in line beside her. As he scrambled down the rigging, in a desperate attempt to get within earshot, Jimmy saw the scathing look Beth threw the drunkard, who stormed back towards his cabin.

Calloused feet hit the deck moments too late and Beth disappeared below. But before the hatch had fallen closed, Jack turned sharply and hollered after them.

"If anyone brings the ungrateful wretch food or water, I'll see you flogged till morning!"

The hatch slammed shut.

Anger bubbled in his gut. Beth had kept her word- her efforts had put all the men to shame. The sweat stains were proof enough of that.

He winced. Sweat. She would be thirsty. Very thirsty.

Jimmy looked down at the shackle scars on his own wrists. They were five years old. This winter would mark five years since Jimmy Christianson had first laid eyes on his Captain. She would never again look as much like an angel as she did then, through prison bars.

_Jimmy Christianson bowed his head into his upturned hands, the heels of his palms pressing into bloodshot eyes till they hurt. Still, they could not shut out the image that lingered there. Burned into his wretched memory for what would have been eternity, had tomorrow not been the day he would die._

_It was stupidity really. A gullible nature had never been kind to Jimmy. When he'd entered his father's carpentry shop that morning, he should have done anything but go inside. Anything but run to the aid of his elder brother, heir to the family business, whose already lifeless body was lying on the cluttered floor, transfixed by his own axe. Anything but try and pull the blade from his chest, blood staining his shaking, innocent hands. Anything but leave the blasted door wide open._

_Jimmy could still hear the screams of those poor children as they stumbled across the gory scene._

_Now, it was all too obvious. Father dying of consumption. Firstborn son dead, his blood on the hands of the next heir. No listened to Jimmy's pleas of innocence. Not even his mother. George had always been her favorite. Been everyone's favorite. Even Jimmy's fiancé, Anne, had told him that she was only marrying him to stay close to his brother. She'd said she never even loved him._

_But none of that mattered now. Jimmy would never marry. He faced the hangman's noose at dawn. For what seemed like the thousandth time since the sun had set, Jimmy glanced out the barred window. He tried to convince himself the sky wasn't getting lighter. Panic rose in his chest and he hugged his knees, bowing his head and beginning to sob hopelessly._

_He didn't know how long the young woman had been watching him cry. When his shoulders finally stopped their shaking, he looked up and met her troubled gaze. The red dress she wore showed a good deal of flesh, but covered enough to be tasteful. Her golden hair was fashionably curled, and her pretty young face was painted exquisitely. He gaped at her for a moment, wondering if she was a hallucination or simply lost._

"_You're Jimmy Christianson, aren't you?"_

_He blinked. Definitely a hallucination, then. Casting a glance around the suspiciously silent dungeon, he nodded slowly._

_She smiled. "Your eyes are like your mother's."_

_Jimmy's mouth worked for a moment as he tried to find the right words. "My mother…?"_

_The golden haired hallucination nodded. "I met her in the street a few hours ago. She told me her son was to be executed in the morning."_

_Jimmy's eyes filled with tears. He hated himself for crying for that woman. Murderer, she'd called him. And he hated himself for crying in front of this young lady. Not that it made any difference. He would be dead in a few short hours._

_A delicate hand wrapped itself around the bars. "She was crying too."_

_He looked up, bewildered gaze meeting thoughtful blue eyes. "She told me her son was innocent. That he could never have killed anyone, least of all his own brother." Tears spilled down Jimmy's cheeks as she continued. "She said she was crying because she would never get to tell him she was sorry."_

"_Who are you?"_

_The blue-eyed angel fell silent. After a moment's pause, she leaned forward, close to the iron bars. "I can't tell you unless you come with me."_

_He laughed. A tired, hysterical laugh. A laugh that was cut short by the jangling of the prison guard's keys. The iron ring looked bulky in her little hand._

"_Your mother says you are an innocent man, Jimmy Christianson. Are you? Did you kill your brother?"_

_Her gaze was sober now. Serious. And calculating. Jimmy stared at her for a moment, then spluttered. "Yes. I mean no! I mean, I'm innocent. George was already dead when I got there. It was all an accident. The axe… he must have fallen-"_

"_I believe you."_

_Jimmy's heart swelled till he thought it might burst. For the first time since he stumbled into the shop that morning, someone believed him. His eyes welled up with tears once more, but the young woman's sharp tone held them at bay._

"_I don't have much time. You don't deserve to die, Jimmy. I can help you. Will you come with me?"_

_Jimmy didn't remember answering, but he must have said yes, because the next thing he knew, the door swung open and his golden haired apparition was pulling him by a very solid hand down the corridors and out into the humid summer night._

_By the time it had all slowed down, Jimmy was in a rowboat. His head was reeling and he stared at the woman before him, slender arms working as she rowed. He thought he remembered asking how she got past the guards. She had said something about a pretty dress and blow-darts._

_A multitude of questions swam in his head as he took in gulps of fresh salty air. Where were they going? Would he see his mother again? Did she like dancing? Jimmy looked out over the black water, at the reflection of the moon, at the retreating lights on shore. Wind whisked his hair back and forth across his forehead, inexplicably making him smile._

"_What is your name?"_

_He hadn't expected an answer. Jimmy hadn't even been sure he said the question aloud. But he turned back to face her when she spoke. "Beth."_

_He blinked as the rowboat thudded against the hull of a ship. He looked up in astonishment, squinting to try and make out the dark lettering on her side. An impatient hand grabbed at him, and he balked as he turned to see her hike up her skirts to climb the rope ladder that had clattered over the railing. The salt-crusted, damp rope was rough under Jimmy's hands and the ship's rocking caused him to fumble in the darkness. Slowly, clumsily he climbed the rungs until, hands firmly on the rail, swung his leg over and stumbled onto the deck. Reeling, he met the many dark eyes staring suspiciously at him._

_Moonlight illuminated the hardened faces of the men around him. Many were unshaven, beards untrimmed and matted; their skins were darkened by the sun. Their clothes were worn and stained with sweat and something darker. The men nearest him wore swords._

_Jimmy staggered back till the rail pressed hard into his spine. His eyes flickered about, searching for the lush red dress. Beth was conversing with what looked more like a bear than a man, who presented her with a bundle of stained and fraying cloth, which she took with care. Loving hands lifted the dirty fabric, and leather, black and lustrous as the moonlit sea below, shined through._

"_You're a _pirate_!"_

_She turned to look at him quizzically, clutching the unassuming package and its contents to her chest. "Is there a problem?"_

"_A _problem_? Who are you people? Why did you bring me here? Pirates! You-You're a _criminal_!"_

"_And you're a murderer."_

_Her eyes were cold now, face firmly set in stone. She carefully handed her precious cargo back to the man-bear and stepped toward him. "Do you think you can go back now? You killed your brother!"_

"_But I didn't-"_

"_Do you really think that matters? Once the noose is around your neck, the crowd wont go home until they've seen a hanging."_

"_So you would have me escape my false charge by becoming a murdering thief? Like you?"_

_Beth frowned. "_La Reigna_ does not fire on uncorrupt targets. Civilian or otherwise."_

"_So what, you're Robin Hood? Steal from the rich, give to the poor?"_

"_Don't be sarcastic." The sun was rising now. Jimmy could hear the alarm bells sounding from onshore. They sounded far away. In his belly, relief was washing away the edge of his anger. They wouldn't find him here. His eyes fell on the lady pirate once more and is breath caught. God, she was beautiful. The sunlight made a halo of her golden hair and the pink flush of dawn dusted her cheeks as she continued. "I have never claimed to be anything of the sort. I save as many innocent souls as I can, and try to give them a home."_

_Jimmy found himself nodding despite himself. Beth smiled, and he was suddenly sure he'd meant to nod all along._

"_You can't go home, Jimmy. You don't have to stay, but at least let me take you away from here. Somewhere they wont be looking for you."_

_The angel was back. Jimmy looked over her shoulder. In the daylight, the crew was much less threatening. They were villagers. Fathers and sons. Even a few grandfathers. Their faces were lined with smiles; hands stained and calloused with abandoned trades. They looked on with curiosity, disapproval, and even protectiveness._

_She had taken back her armful of cloth from the bear. Jimmy tried valiantly not to stare as she hiked her voluminous red skirts up over her tanned knees. Beth firmly tugged the luxurious turndown boots up her calves, performing the practiced ankle wiggle indicative of perfectly fitted footwear, though these were obviously styled for a man. The hobnails clicked authoritatively on the deck as she straightened up._

_And suddenly, angel became captain. Her shoulders set, low and strong. Her spine was somehow straighter, head a little higher. The deception fell away, and Jimmy saw the red gown for what it was, hanging dull and superfluous off the shoulders of this marvelous woman._

_She turned to him, and Jimmy became acutely aware of his gaping mouth. There was an inkling of a curve to her lips as she began to speak._

"_You'll be needing a new name, of course. To keep you safe." She took a step forward and circled him slowly. Jimmy felt the heat rising in his cheeks under those clear blue eyes. The deck fell into silence, punctuated only by the gentle sloshing of the waves. After what felt like an eternity, Beth stopped her scrutinizing and looked him in the face._

"_Christian."_

_Jimmy blinked._

"_That way it shouldn't be difficult to get used to. And I like Christian. It ages you a little." She paused. "Would you do me a favor, Christian?"_

_Jimmy stood at attention without thinking, hands clasped behind his back like a schoolboy. "Yes, Ma'am."_

_The men around him chuckled and Jimmy felt his face color. Beth smiled in amusement, turning away from him and facing the morning sea. She leaned on the railing. "Would you wait to pass judgment on me and my crew? Should you choose to go ashore, we will take you only so far as the first port where they will not recognize you. But I wish you would stay." She looked at him over her shoulder. "Would you do that for me? I cannot make you sail with us, but at least wait to give me your answer till we reach port safely."_

It hadn't taken nearly that long.

Jimmy's feet shifted uneasily on the deck, loyalties squirming in an angry knot in his stomach. The knot only twisted tighter as he surveyed the faces on deck. James Willoughby, whose real name was David. Daniel Blake, whose name was Ken. Even Peter Whitley was once Devon Whitman. All had been brought aboard by the same pair of delicate but hardworking hands. Sometimes it was a red dress, others a stolen uniform, but always it was the same heart of gold.

Jimmy brooded his way through dinner. It was a culinary disaster- an over-spiced, too salty bowl of salmagundi that burned his eyes and mouth. It was a rather uniform brown and had the overall texture of rotting vegetables, which wasn't surprising, and tasted mostly of hot peppers and charcoal. But it was enough to fill his belly. To fuel his work in the morning to come. Which was more than he could say of his Captain. He looked down into the empty dish with some surprise. He never thought the day would come when he would be grateful for salmagundi.

Jimmy waited as the men around him got up one by one, their bowls laying abandoned as they went to their beds or their posts. After the last one had gone, Jimmy gathered up the dishes and piled them on an empty crate. When the grizzled old cook hobbled his way out of the galley, Jimmy took his arm and helped him to sit down.

"Abe, you look tired."

Abram, who had been born Angus Hawthorne, nodded wearily. "It just hasn't been the same without the Captain. Every day, its harder to get these old bones out of bed." The old man smiled, peering at Jimmy through knowing grey eyes. "You know how it is with her. All it takes is a smile, and all the aches and pains melt away."

Jimmy's gaze faltered. "I do."

Abe's hand shook as he took the proffered mug of rum, and Jimmy noticed the cloth wrapped hastily about his wrinkled hand. "Abe, did you cut yourself?" The old cook smiled ruefully. Jimmy took a sip of rum from his own mug, eyeing the other crewmen over it the chip in its rim. None of them seemed to suspect anything.

"Why don't you let me do the dishes tonight? The Captain wont mind so long as they get done, and dishwater wont do that cut any kind of good."

Abe looked down at his shaking hand, then smiled up at Jimmy. "Right nice of you, son. I'm bone tired."

Jimmy led the creaky old sailor to his cot, men around him all sprawled and snoring from the hard work and distasteful but heavy meal. Abe subsided into the scratchy blankets with a groan and looked gratefully up at the younger man, who felt a stab of guilt in his stomach as he walked away.

He did the dishes quickly, cracking a few bowls, though he doubted anyone would notice. After he set them to dry, he wiped his hands on his shirt. With one last furtive glance around, he filled his mug with water, reached into a nearby burlap sack, and stuffed a fistful of something into his pocket before shuffling hurriedly out the door.


	14. Chapter 14

A howl of rage tore itself from Jack Sparrow's throat. He jerked upright, fistfuls of sheets gathered in his white knuckled grip. His breath came hard, nostrils flaring angrily. He could still smell the smoke.

He didn't need to be asleep to watch her burn. To see his beloved _Pearl_ sinking, sad and broken, below the surface. To hear the laughs and jeers from aboard _La Reigna_ as she limped away. Cries of disappointment too, that their prize could not be looted before she sank.

The snarl on his lips faded and he bowed his head into shaking, upturned hands. The tremors spread to his shoulders. His breath came shallow and irregular through clenched teeth. But as the first sob broke free, he threw back the covers and stood. Broken glass and crumbs crunched beneath the boots he hadn't bothered to remove. The room spun dangerously and he threw out a hand to catch himself, leaning against the wall.

Jack remembered her too. She hadn't changed much since then. On that day, she had been at the helm. Her golden hair whipped about in the wind as though she were some sea goddess. A goddess indeed, for her adolescence had given way to a generously curvaceous silhouette that men's clothing did nothing to hide.

In a haze, Jack fought to shut out the image. He shuffled to his desk, a grimy, trembling hand wrapping about the neck of a bottle. The look of feeble relief as he lifted it to his lips turned to anger and he hurled the empty bottle. It shattered. He rounded on the desk and in one violent sweep of his arm, sent candles, bottles, charts and all crashing to the floor. Amber liquid ran between the shards of broken glass and pooled at the Captain's feet. He couldn't even smell the rum anymore. Or the stinking mounds of clothing strewn about the floor. Or the sour smell of his bedsheets, fouled as night after night he awoke in a sweat. He stared, expressionless, at his own moonlit reflection, his hands trembling at his sides. Then the desk chair, beautifully carved and upholstered, collided with the wall and splintered. With a roar, Jack heaved the mighty desk onto its side, drawers spilling open and divulging their contents onto the liquor soaked floor. Jack took a step toward the matching chest. He slipped then fell, broken glass cutting into his knees and the palms of his hands. He howled, wounds stinging as rum mingled with the blood.

"Jack!"

The door flew open with a bang, and suddenly there were hands pulling him to his feet. Jack struggled, scrabbling at the shadowed figure. He struck and the intruder staggered back. Jack lurched, catching himself on the corner of the upturned desk. Moonlight fell across Will Turner's face. The younger man looked around in astonishment. "Jack, what happened in- "

With a low growl, the Captain shoved past him. Outside the door he was met by a cluster of men, some still holding mops and rags. The big man, Whitley, stood in his way. Jack thrust him aside, closing his ears to the indignant voices behind him. Anger fueled his uneven steps.

He was trapped. Trapped by her crew. For they were her crew. The way they looked at him was enough to tell him that. Trapped on her ship. On the ship that blasted the _Pearl_ into oblivion. Trapped by the woman who had caused him sell his soul to Davy Jones to bring the _Pearl_ back. Trapped by the dreams, by the sway of her hips as she walked, by the impossible blueness of her eyes.

Jack didn't know how he had gotten into the hold, or how the bottle had ended up in his hand. It was half empty before he realized where he was. And when he did, he took another swig.

Moonlight danced over Beth's sleeping form. It whispered through the tangle of golden hair splayed across the cell floor. It kissed her plump, pink lips. It caressed her long legs, embraced the curve of her hip, suckled the caramel skin at her breast.

Jack felt his pulse quicken, the cool night air suddenly becoming sticky and hot. He took a halting step toward the cell, shaking hands reaching out and fastening around the iron bars.

Damn her, she was beautiful. She was arrogant. She was infuriating and she was stubborn. Meddlesome. Naïve. She was an insubordinate wretch. But damn his eyes to hell, she was beautiful.

His body was tight with anger. Anger in his hatred for her. Anger at his detestable state of affairs. More than anything, anger at his own traitorous desire. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat.

Beth stirred. Slowly, she opened those treacherous blue eyes. As she caught sight of him, they widened in fright and she scrambled back away from the bars. There was a dull thud, and something ceramic rattled across the floor, coming to a stop with a telltale _clink_ at Jack's feet.

For a moment, Jack Sparrow was absolutely still. Then he reached for the keys.


	15. Chapter 15

Beth's scream woke Jimmy Christianson from his sleep. Nearly tumbling head over heels in haste, Jimmy launched himself out of his hammock. The rest weren't far behind. Jimmy heard heavy footfalls behind him as he burst out onto the deck. But he paid them little mind.

Jack Sparrow had his Captain by her hair.

Rage tore through Jimmy, searing his blood like white-hot lightening. Sparrow dragged her across the deck toward the gathering crowd as she clawed at him.

Jimmy's body shook, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He felt the crew around him tense, hands going to swords for those who still wore them.

Beth cried out as Jack drew her up, jerking her head roughly backwards. Spittle flew as he roared into her upturned face.

"Be still, you belligerent little whore!"

He tuned sharply and hurled something at the deck, where it shattered. A clay something. A familiar something. Jimmy's stomach plummeted. A mug.

"Which one," he began, in a low, menacing snarl, " of you degenerate cockroaches brought this _ABOMINATION_ stolen rations?"

He shook Beth roughly and she clutched at her scalp with a snarl, falling to the deck as he released her. He rounded on the crew. "Well?" he spat. "Speak up!"

Will Turner hastened onto the deck, his wife a few steps behind him and still in her dressing gown.

Whitley's mouth was set in a grim line. The Higgins brothers wore the same savage look. Jimmy Christianson stared down at his Captain in white-faced horror.

"No one?" Sparrow's voice was frighteningly calm. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Come now. Surely one of you is just _yearning_ to show his loyalty to this _whelp._" He nudged Beth with the toe of his boot.

There was the definitive ring of swords being drawn. Mutiny. Peter Whitley took the first step forward. Jack Sparrow met his gaze evenly, baring his teeth in a twisted grin, one grimy hand reaching for his pistol. Jimmy opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm your thief."

A woman's voice. Jimmy's heart stopped. Beth's voice. The deck fell silent.

She sat up slowly, stiffly, favoring sore muscles and fresh bruises. But her gaze was steady. Authoritative.

They knew it wasn't the truth. They'd all had eyes on her from sunup to sundown, watching their Captain sweat for this rum-soaked husk of a man. They knew. And Jimmy knew. But it was more than a lie. It was an order. It was as much in her voice as it was written on her face. _Stand down._

Jimmy's instincts cried out against it. Why? Why let this delinquent live a moment longer? Why watch his Captain suffer?

But he remembered how she looked that night, staring straight into his soul through the prison bars. He could almost hear her voice in his ear.

_Have I ever led you astray, Christian?_

A sword was sheathed. Then two. Knives were tucked out of sight. Whitley's hands fell to his sides. Even poor Bart Morely let go of the mop he had been so viciously brandishing. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

Jack turned slowly. There was a buzzing in his ears. Everything suddenly seemed sharper. Clearer. His roiling insides went blessedly still.

"So," He began. His voice sounded strange in his own ears. "There you have it." He straightened up. "You shall suffer such punishment as the Captain and crew see fit. So what of it, lads?"

Silence. Jack met the vengeful eyes of Beth's crew. He stared them down. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

He paused. A depraved smile slowly tainted his face. "Why, that's an excellent idea… Quartermaster, if you would be so kind..."

Whitley went pale and still as stone. Jack drew his pistol and pointed it at the big man's head. "_**Now**__!_" Whitley moved then, as the crew looked on in confusion. But when they saw the knotted ends of the whip in his hands, they understood. A dozen mouths opened in protest. Someone shouted. Will Turner was the fastest, managing a half dozen steps towards the Captain. "You can't-!"

Jack struck him hard across the face with the pistol. Will fell to his knees, clutching a broken nose, staring up at the older man in shock.

"You undermine my authority again, boy, and I'll make your wife a widow."

Beth had offered up her arms so that she might be held down. Another order. A short man named Wally had taken her right. One of the Higgins brothers took her left. Both were pale. Peter Whitley clutched the whip in trembling hands. Jack snatched it from him.

The world went silent. The only sound was the pounding of blood in his ears. Time slowed and stretched, and Jack raised his arm for the first blow.


End file.
